


Tantalize

by mzsnaz, Sarek and Amanda Archive Maintainer (Selek)



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-25
Updated: 2013-03-25
Packaged: 2017-12-06 11:42:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/735253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mzsnaz/pseuds/mzsnaz, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selek/pseuds/Sarek%20and%20Amanda%20Archive%20Maintainer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Time travel of some sort or other into Vulcan's past with Sarek and Amanda as the main characters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tantalize

**Author's Note:**

> 2005-2006 Desert Winds in the Winter's Cold Challenge

Title:  Tantalize  
Author:  mzsnaz  
Series:  ST: TOS  
Rating:  NC-17  
Characters:  Sarek and Amanda  
Disclaimer:  Star Trek is the property of Viacom and Paramount  
Summary:  2005-2006 Desert Winds in the Winter's Cold Challenge - Time travel of some sort or other into Vulcan's past with Sarek and Amanda as the main characters.  
  
  
 **\---Tantalize----**  
  
  
<Computer - start program>  
  
Shi'Kahr compound - in the time of the beginning.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"Bring her to me," the male ordered after a moment's consideration.  His personal guard, dressed in the tradition fashion of an expert weapons master, bowed in the direction of his leader and went to retrieve the strange female who had been captured earlier that evening.  
  
The cavernous room the heavily-cloaked guard exited was illuminated only by the flickering dance of thin tapered candles set high upon a flat stone mantel.  A low set firepot decorated with hadean creatures smoldered in a distant corner, unattended and feebly endeavoring to light the area.  Exotic tapestries lined one craggy wall, warming the otherwise cold space.  The ceiling climbed up to where only the shadows lurked.  There were no windows in the room, with the only opening an ornate door that led down a short staircase into the central room dominated by one piece of furniture – a massive bed whose headboard was a masterpiece of intertwining metal and wood, intricately pieced together – an impassive witness to what happened beneath its impressive facade.  The bed was enclosed by heavy brocade curtains – curtains that could be closed to block drafts or to allow privacy.  
  
The young woman scarcely had time to get her bearings when she was roughly pushed from behind.  Stumbling forward, she caught herself before hitting the ruddy tile floor, and glared angrily at the guard.  
  
"This is the female," the broad-shouldered male contemptuously spat out, his sneer the only facial feature evident from beneath his heavy cowl.  The woman's forehead creased as she searched the room.  To whom was he speaking?  He certainly wasn't talking to her.  
  
"Leave us."  
  
A soft gasp escaped as trepidation encircled her – someone was in the bed.  Not just someone - whoever it was possessed a deep, resonant male voice that echoed unfalteringly against the walls and filled the room with a snap of authority.  The door closed behind her, ending any thought of escape – not that she had anywhere to escape to.  
  
"Speak," the male ordered.  The woman narrowed her eyes in the dim candlelight and could just see the outline of a figure, his back against the headboard, his shadowy features projecting authority.  
  
"I have nothing to say," she softly replied.  Her voice did not echo throughout the room in the same manner as his.   The person on the bed carefully adjusted the covers over his legs.  The air was scented with the piquant aroma of unfamiliar flowers and fragrant incense – a nearly cinnamon-like scent mixed with dark, heavy molasses.  
  
"What are you?"  
  
She looked down at the tiled floor, its pattern carefully laid out from a center point in the middle of the room outward.  An impatient sigh pulled her attention back up to the bed, and she anxiously bit her parched bottom lip.  
  
"I am human."  
  
"Hue man?" the male repeated, intriguingly devoid of the mockery the others had expressed at her statement.  "That is not a Clan name I am familiar with."  
  
"I come from a place far from here," she offered, knowing that shard of information wasn't going to be enough - knowing he'd demand more.  Even in the faint light, she could feel his curious gaze sweeping over her.  His features were strong, and at the moment, quite unmoved by her plight.  
  
"Where is this place?"  
  
"It is – another planetary system."  She paused, narrowing her eyes further as she struggled to see in the piteous light.  "Do you understand me?"  
  
"You speak peculiarly with an accent that I do not recognize," the male responded.  "You must be from a distant land."  She found his credence in her account appealing – calming.    
  
"Why did you summon me?" she delicately inquired, fearful but needing to know.  It was not customary to keep a member of a rival Clan alive for more than a few hours of interrogation.  She could only imagine what would happen to her - not merely from a rival Clan, but from an entirely different star system.  That she'd been captured so easily goaded her immeasurably.  If only she'd been more alert.  If only she'd known what to expect – what could happen – what did happen.    
  
"What is your name?  Do not lie to me," he evenly ordered, every mannerism that of one not used to delay.   
  
"Amanda."  
  
"Amanda," he repeated, clearly enunciating each syllable. 

 

She found herself staring at the bed, wondering why her name sounded like a caress when he said it.  "Am I to be killed?"  Despite the warmth in the room, she trembled.  Her sheer translucent dress and sandals - and nothing more – were traditionally worn by highly ranked women of this particular House.  She'd studied the ancient traditions involving dress and decorum and couldn't determine why she'd been stripped and then ordered to wear the Vulcan clothing.  The reason remained wrapped in mystery, just like the identity of the male in the bed.  
  
"No," he said, his lighter tenor indicating mild amusement, "I do not plan to kill you – at least not at this time."  
  
"Who are you?" she boldly asked.  Such a question might dash her chances of leaving alive, but she had to know.  There was always a chance that he might be a historically significant figure – not that it mattered now...  
  
"Only I am allowed questions," he stated dismissively.  The covers of the bed rustled as he drew them away from his legs.  With natural grace, he rose and stepped over to the firepot, now filled with smoldering ashes. 

 

Amanda gasped at his immodest nudity.   "What - are you doing?" she asked, dumbstruck by his chiseled profile outlined by the reddish glow of the fire pot.  He didn't answer, but instead busied himself with relighting the fire.  
  
Within minutes, flames danced against the near wall and reflected off his well muscled form.  Amanda watched, mesmerized, even as she became aware of a growing breathlessness that the act of staring had caused.  Mortified, she tightly closed her eyes, forcing her mind back to the seriousness of her predicament - a human captured by a group of PreReform Vulcans who were unaware – or apathetic - about Earth's very existence.  This was no time for corporeal fantasies; indeed, this was a time when she ought to be scared out of her wits.     
  
She never should have agreed to join the dangerous time travel expedition in the first place.  Others with more qualifications could have filled in as the team linguist.  But, no – no, she thought it would be `fun'.  `Educational'.  And it had begun that way.  She and two other specially selected colleagues with impressive credentials had beamed down to a remote location far from the Vulcan cities and worked for nearly two days without problems, transmitting their findings to the waiting ship.  Then, late on the second day, fierce plasma fire destroyed their camp.  Her two colleagues, virtual strangers to her before their journey, had been killed immediately.  She tried desperately to contact the orbiting ship, but the team's one communicator had been hit by an errant beam and was useless.  With no options available, she surrendered to the brutal warriors, thankful that they hadn't instantly killed her like the others.  Only later had she learned that the Vulcans had targeted and destroyed the ship, too.  That scrap of knowledge about technological advancement beyond what allegedly existed at this time would be lost – and the information would die with her.   
  
"You are thirsty."  
  
It wasn't a question, and Amanda mutely nodded at his statement.  The male strode toward her, seemingly unaware of the intense scrutiny his naked form was under.  Embarrassed, she forced her eyes up.  She couldn't clearly make out if his wavy hair was black or brown, but it hung to a point just above his broad shoulder blades.  His eyes were equally dark - black orbs that glinted zealously above an aristocratic nose and full lips.  Before reaching her, he stopped and took a container from the mantel and plucked two copper colored goblets from it with his other hand.  Gazing at her, his expression appeared challenging, yet inviting.    
  
"Join me."  
  
Amanda started.  His voice was so rich – so enticing.  Warning thoughts were carelessly abandoned as she lightly padded over the tiled floor to a point nearer the bed.  She couldn't resist even if she wanted to - could she?  The male sat on the edge of the bed close to the headboard, his feet steadfastly planted on the floor.  
  
"Join me," he ordered again, motioning to a place next to him on the bed.  
  
She gingerly sat down and nervously took the offered goblet from the male's grasp.  A shiver passed through her as the warmth from the covers began to spread through her legs and lower body.  
  
"You are cold," he said with the same indisputable manner of all his statements.  He put his goblet down on the floor and went to an alcove hidden behind one of the hanging tapestries.  Amanda couldn't seem to take her eyes off of him even as he returned with an intricately decorated coverlet that he gently draped across her lap.  She clutched the material against her left thigh, the goblet in her right hand.  
  
"Thank you," she hesitantly said, giving him a quick smile.  She took a tentative sip of the amber liquid in the cup.  It was warmer than she'd expected, but its heat was welcome.  
  
"You should thank me properly," he replied, his tenor low and rough.  He snatched the goblet from her hand and placed it next to his on the floor.  Then, he smiled.  Amanda felt her mouth drop open in surprise even as she found herself unconsciously reciprocating the look.  She'd never seen a Vulcan truly smile with no thought of emotional control, and on this one – on him it was beautiful.  
  
"How shall I thank you?" she whispered, never taking her eyes from his.  The blazing heat of the liquid she'd been served was nothing compared to the warmth that was spreading like wildfire throughout her body. 

 

He continued to smile as he leaned toward her.  "I believe we can find a way," he throatily said, but then pulled back, his dark eyes narrowing in thought.  "But first, you must tell me if you are a convert."  
  
Amanda swallowed hard, knowing from her studies what he meant.  The Pre-Reform Vulcans were a passionate, highly emotional people.  Those passions nearly destroyed them as they fought Clan against Clan, Family against Family, for power and planetary control.  During that time, there were some pacifistic groups who called for an end to the violence and destruction prior to Surak's call for peace.  Those who did often paid with their lives since they fanatically clung to their beliefs and would not waver even under torture and imminent death.  Now, the question – was this male a convert to the cause of peace or not?  
  
"I am not from here," she quietly reminded him, hoping he wouldn't press her.  His forceful gaze seemed to pierce through her, though, seeking the truth.  
  
"I asked if you were a convert," he growled and, without warning, seized her arm and pulled her closer to his bare chest. 

 

She fell against him before regaining her balance.  "Please don't hurt me," she gasped, quaking with a mixture of terror and inexplicable excitement.  They remained motionless for a moment, and Amanda breathed in deeply the sweet aroma of piquant cinnamon that has intensified with their closer contact.  
  
"You will not be harmed if you are truthful," he replied, releasing her.  She moved back toward her original spot on the bed, but then reconsidered and chose a place closer to her captor.  His flesh had been inhumanly hot against her skin – a difference that sent sparks of anticipation through her even as she fought against such a base reaction.  
  
"I am being truthful," Amanda said, giving him a hopeful look.  
  
"I sensed no deceit within you when we touched," he revealed, but still sounded unconvinced.  "Are you a convert?"  
  
She bit her bottom lip again, frantically wondering what to say, but then the answer came to her and she relaxed.  To say yes would likely be suicide.  If he was a convert and she said no, the worst that might happen would be an attempt to `save' her.  He didn't act like a convert to peace, not with his aggressive ways.  The odds were in her favor with one word.  
  
"No."  
  
The male silently appraised her, leisurely taking in her slender form, feminine and pale in the candlelight.  His unblinking eyes smoldered with barely contained fire as he observed the rise and fall of her chest.  Amanda struggled to slow her ragged breathing, but it was a vain attempt.  
  
"I shall know if you are lying," he softly murmured.  He moved with a predator's stealth toward her.  "If you are lying, you will refuse me."  
  
"Refuse." she whispered, curiously incapable of grasping what he meant – and now, he was so close.  
  
"The converted revel in control and passionless joinings," he calmly stated, his voice low and husky.  He smiled as she convulsively swallowed, her eyes averted.  "Those converted believe in logic above all other things – do you understand now?"  
  
"What is your name?" she plaintively asked.  
  
He smiled as one humoring a child.  "You do not need to know my name," he insisted, reaching out to gently caress her upper arm.  "There is no need for words."  
  
His name was the least he could tell her, even though a tiny part of her knew without being told.  That knowledge relaxed her tremendously – and aroused her further.  
  
Beneath his stroking fingers, he gradually turned her toward him.  Amanda moved to kiss him, letting the translucent material tease his chest; however, he quickly raised his left hand and tenderly rebuked her with the brush of his index finger against her now moist lips.  
  
"No," he insisted, intently staring at her beautiful form shimmering in the flickering light.  "No, that is not our way."  
  
With tremendous care, he gently lifted her up to a position in front of him.  Placing his hands along her hips, he slowly trailed them down her thighs to her ankles and then, with a sudden show of impatience, grasped the hem of her gown and pulled it swiftly over her head.  The gossamer material drifted away toward the tapestry wall, forgotten.  
  
Amanda carefully removed her sandals without turning away from him.  With laser intensity, his eyes traveled over her, taking in every curve and line.    
  
"You are a beautiful vision," the male casually offered, his right hand gently touching the left side of her face.  He tucked a fallen strand of brunette hair behind her ear.  "So soft," he whispered, following the strand down from her face, sliding his hand over her neck and letting it settle lightly on her breast.    
  
She trembled, barely able to stand on weakened legs.  His breath, hot on the nape of her neck, deepened as he pressed himself fully against her flesh.  He felt the cool smoothness of her skin pulling the heat from his length like a refreshing swim in a mountain stream high above the desert.  He projected the image to her, startling her with the vivid memory of a sight she'd never seen.  
  
With one fell swoop, he easily lifted her and she slipped her arms around his neck, resting her head against his solid chest.  There was only one destination, and with great care, he placed her in the middle of the massive bed.  Somewhat dazed, Amanda watched as he slid with catlike grace next to her, stretching his long frame in an attempt to allay the mounting pressure within.  She was mesmerized by the way the taut muscles moved beneath his skin with every move.  
  
"I shall now kiss you," he stated, amused by the low chuckle of the woman next to him.  
  
"That would be lovely," she purred back, wantonly pushing her hair away from her face - wondering if she were really there or if it were only a dream.   
  
Moving as one, their lips met with a tenderness that filled her entire being with a rush of dizzying emotions. Nothing else existed in that moment. She stopped fighting the wariness and became a willing partner to every feeling and thought that he wished to awaken inside her. His hands roamed across her face for a moment, eliciting a moan of surprise and pleasure at the explicit images he projected simply through his light touch.  Even his kisses sent errant thoughts cascading through her, intensifying her desire.  He moved his hands lower to gently massage her aching and responsive breasts. She arched beneath him, moaning low in her throat as his long fingers teased her nipples to peaks.  
  
He bent away from her, breaking their contact, releasing her lips that pouted in protest.  With excruciating patience, he remained still, hovering over her with her legs pinned between his.  He watched her lick her bottom lip as she awaited his next move.  
  
When he remained stationary too long, she eagerly pulled him down to her, her hands entwined in his thick hair.  He doesn't protest or resist even though he could easily stop her actions – not that he would.  Her mouth tenderly captured his for a moment, and then left to place a path of kisses that went from his mouth down his neck.  She squirmed under him, attempting to kiss her way down the length of his torso.  He remained still, enthralled by the gleaming shine of long curls that framed her face.  Almost reluctantly, he gently ended her downward impetus by grasping her under her arms and pulling her back up to him.  Now pinned more firmly under him, he began to sensuously drag the backs of his fingers up the outside of her thighs, making swirling rings along her now-glistening soft skin.  He held her gaze with his penetrating eyes, and she quivered beneath him, restlessly awaiting that exquisite contact between male and female.  
  
"You have no patience," he gently chided.    
  
"No," she agreed, lips curling into a smile at the truth.  
  
"We shall work on that," he murmured, his fingers outlining her firm breasts.  She tried to remain still even he bent and took one taut nipple between his lips.  There was simmering promise in his touch – his mouth felt like molten lava against her, and she arched upward involuntarily in a silent entreaty for more.  He teased her with his tongue at first, lightly raking the nub with his teeth.  With abrupt vigor, he suddenly suckled greedily, delighted to hear her contented groan as she wriggled under him.  She raked her fingers through his hair as he repeated the act on her waiting pert nipple.  
  
<Computer - Suspend program>  
  
"Oh, please."  
  
Amanda stood from behind a portable console and glared at the stationary images in the prototype holodeck, her eyes sparking in anger at the scene before her.   
  
"You are displeased," Sarek calmly stated from his position next to her, not surprised by her stern, disparaging look.  "You asked for my assistance."  
  
"Assistance with the historical accuracies as Clan leader, yes," she harrumphed, waving her hand dismissively at the bed.  "Sarek, this is completely unrealistic.  After months of careful planning, research, and evaluation, my hope was to offer a detailed look at Pre-Reform Vulcan and the Clan wars by way of an outsider's point of view.  Instead, you've turned the entire scenario into a sexcapade vid."  
  
"That is incorrect," he firmly said, his eyebrow threatening to disappear into his hairline.  "The Pre-Reform period was a time of tremendous violence.  If you had allowed the program to progress, you would have understood that what the young lady."  
  
"Me about sixty years ago," Amanda interrupted.  
  
"The young lady had no knowledge of the danger she was in," he continued, ignoring the interruption.  "Sexual exploitation was one of several means used by Clan leaders to not only garner information, but to impregnate a rival Clan's female.  Such a union would have led to the death of the woman, either at the hands of her Clan or by members of the victor's Clan."  
  
"Still, there's no reason for the progression of events to lead to sex."  
  
"You object?"  Sarek gave her an innocent look as she loudly sighed.  
  
"As a matter of fact, I do," she said, walking around the bed.  The couple appeared suspending in time - frozen in a passionate moment that would never end.  Amanda frowned and shook her head.  "I'm well aware that sexual conquest was used by the Clan leaders as a form of control.  It's documented and sealed in the archived records at Gol that took me forever to access, and I double-checked my data."  She unrelentingly scrutinized the couple with a disparaging eye.  "You know, it wouldn't have hurt my feelings if you'd enhanced my figure a bit."  
  
"In what respect?" he asked.  
  
"The program allows for a certain amount of discretionary freedom."  She tried, and failed, not to grin.  "You could have given me larger breasts."  
  
"I was endeavoring for accuracy."  
  
"And who is supposed to know that we've modeled these `people' on us?" Amanda demanded.  "After all, I enhanced you."  
  
"You did?"    
  
Now, she did laugh.  "We didn't get that far into the program."  
  
"Ah."  
  
"I'm changing this."  
  
Sarek frowned slightly at her statement.  "What do you propose to change?"  
  
"Computer, save this program as PreReform1.  Begin new program – Pre-Reform 2."  
  
"A different program?"  
  
"A different storyline. One that I think may be more reasonable."  She began to slowly nod.  "Yes – actually, you may have helped me solve one of the questions I've had about some missing data in the sealed records."  
  
"Indeed?"  
  
"Indeed."  She grinned impishly.  "Since I know a bit about Clan leaders, I believe you'll find this scenario just as fascinating."  
  
<Computer - begin program>  
  
Mt. Seleya - in the time of the beginning.  
  
"Bring him to me," she ordered after a pause.  Her personal guard, dressed in the tradition manner of an expert weapons master, bowed and went to retrieve the enemy male who had been captured earlier that evening.  
  
The mountainside retreat of the House leader had never been breached – not until a lone assassin entered and killed several young adepts before his capture.  After several hours of mind probes and physical torture, the leader knew his original intent - to kill her and those affiliated with her Clan.  She was impressed with his ability to infiltrate so deeply into the retreat before being defeated by her loyal forces.  One did not undertake such a mission without understanding the prospects for success or failure.  Obviously, the male believed he was better than his abilities proved.  She looked forward to proving him wrong in other areas as well.  
  
The cavernous room was illuminated with thin tapered candles set high upon a stone mantel.  A low set firepot decorated with hadean gargoyle creatures smoldered in a distant corner, unattended and only weakly attempting to live.  Exotic tapestries lined one craggy wall, warming the otherwise cold walls and soaring ceiling where only shadows climbed.  There were windows in the space that let in the howls and screams of the lematya packs that roamed far below.  A stone laden staircase led into the central room that was dominated by one piece of furniture - a massive bed whose headboard was a masterpiece of metal and wood, intricately laced together – an impassive witness to what happened beneath its impressive facade.  The bed was enclosed by heavy brocade curtains - curtains that could be closed to allow privacy.  
  
Her guard returned with the male, hands bound behind his back, his eyes averted.  Rising, she began to inspect him, not touching, but merely circling him at a distance she knew was too close for his sensitive Vulcan nature.  She wore only the translucent gown and sandals that were traditionally worn by the women of her Family.    
  
"Leave us," she ordered, and the guard swiftly bowed and left.  The male's eyes followed the guards retreat, and when he was positive that they were alone, he sprang forward.  The woman lightly stepped back and, reaching behind her, pulled out a razor thin dagger and placed the sharpened tip against his throat.    
  
"What were you trying to do?" she dryly asked, smiling at his frozen expression.  She could see the darkening bruises that outlined his strong features.  "The blade is saturated with deadly poison.  Don't move, or you'll be dead in seconds."  She narrowed her eyes.  "I understand that you held up relatively well under the probes."  
  
He remained silent, and she stepped away, lowering the blade.  She could see the slight indentation left by the sharp edge against his skin.  "You may speak if you wish.  I'm sure that you already realize that your valley base camp has been routed and all those found killed?"  
  
His eyes flicked up briefly, but there was no other indication of distress.  
  
"Men, women, and children," she calmly continued, watching the muscles tense along his jaw line.  "How many of those women and children were yours?"  
  
Her smile broadened as she observed the way her taunt riled him.  
  
"Speak," she ordered, slowly turning her back to him, daring him to lunge forward again.  She walked to a low set table and filled two glasses with sour wine, taken in a recent raid.  "Perhaps a drink will loosen your vocal cords."  
  
She returned to the immobile figure, dressed in the common rags of a prisoner.  Her smile faded as she held up the cup to his lips.  "Take a drink.  I promise it's not poisoned."  
  
When he refused, she took the first sip, and then placed the cup's rim hard against his lips.  "Drink.  If for no reason other than to dampen the memory of your capture."  
  
He swallowed hard, his upper lip curling into a sneer as he opened his mouth.  Realizing his intent, she pulled the thin porcelain edge away from him as he attempted to bite down on the rim.  
  
"That was stupid," she growled, throwing the cup against the mantel.  It shattered into tiny shards that covered the floor like stars.  "Injuring yourself will not make your plight better."  
  
"What do you plan to do with me?"  
  
She raised her eyebrows at the question.  Usually, those captured remained silent, even when death was imminent.  
  
"You are from an enemy Clan," she replied, her tone condescending, noticing the way his leg muscles tensed, then relaxed.  So, he was considering another strike.  "At this time, you will be permitted to live.  We need information about future attacks."  
  
"I have no information."  
  
"Liar."  
  
The male impassively gazed at a point directly over the woman's head.  "I cannot lie."  
  
"A lie on top of a lie."  
  
She smiled at the twitch of muscles in his strong face.  He wasn't used to being confronted - he was accustomed to a position of unquestioned authority.  
  
"Why would I reveal anything to you?" he asked, his tone cold.  "You are not of this Clan - you are strange to my eyes."  
  
"I am strange?" the woman said, laughing.  "Yes, I suppose I am.  It is of no consequence for you to know that I am not from this place; however, I have strong allies and friends here."  
  
"I have nothing to say."  
  
"I don't want you to say anything at this time."  
  
The male's eyes cut to her, warily curious of her intent.  
  
"Do you know how miserably lonely it is here?" she asked, sounding almost wistful.  The male glared at her, convinced that she was employing some form of alien trickery.  
  
"A true leader does not need the companionship of others," he staunchly offered.  He waited for her to reveal her true intention, but instead she walked to the bed and sat down.  
  
"Do you have a name?" she inquired, again sounding strangely at odds with her dominant position.  He looked away toward the mantel.  What form of interrogation was this, simply to ask a question and expect an answer with no force used?  When he remained silent, she sighed.  His eyes remained on the mantel until the smell of exotic flowers and desert rain caused his nostrils to flare.  Cutting his eyes defiantly in her direction, he stilled his astonishment at what he saw.  The female was still on the bed, but she had somehow clandestinely removed her clothes.  She leaned back on the bed, delighted at his shocked appearance.  
  
"I told you I'm lonely," she slowly said, feeling his eyes scan her nude form.  She wasn't surprised when he quickly averted his gaze.  
  
"I would prefer to be escorted back to my holding cell."  
  
"You are a terrible liar," she haughtily insisted, standing and walking to a spot directly in front of him.  She could see the way his breathing had changed, although many wouldn't have noticed – he was beginning to struggle with his control.  "Perhaps we've been too vicious with you.  I'd like to offer a diversion from your troubles."  
  
"I need no diversion."  
  
"Maybe you don't," she agreed, reaching out and rubbing the back of his tense hand.  "Maybe the diversion is for me."  
  
"I will not cooperate."  
  
She looked up at him, her eyes sparkling.  "You won't?"  She continued to rub his hand and trailed her fingertips up his arm, willing away the apprehension.  "You won't give in to a moment of pleasure?"  
  
"No."  
  
"You don't tell me no."  
  
His brow furrowed infinitesimally at the sudden disappearance of her previous bantering tone.  Her entire façade had changed to one of barely contained fury.  
  
"There is no need for hostility," he calmly stated.  She was angry, and he could take advantage of that blind emotion; however, there might be a better way of gaining the advantage.  "I am your prisoner," he reminded her – reminded himself – surprised at how he felt his controls slipping further at the sight of her nude form.  "You are correct:  I cannot tell you no."  
  
For a brief moment, he believed that she would call for her guards and order his immediate execution.  After a lengthy pause, she took in a deep breath, releasing it in a ragged expulsion.  
  
"Prove your submissiveness," she briskly ordered, regaining control as she retreated to the edge of the bed.  He followed her meekly, saying nothing as she cut the restraints from his hands and pulled off the tattered prisoner garb from his body.  She ran her cooler hands over the warm flesh of his arms and chest, taking her time – waiting for a response.  She was standing so close that her hair tickled the underside of his chin.

  
"If you plan to kill me," she murmured into his chest, "you'll be dead before I hit the floor."  
  
"Indeed," he replied, his sonorous tone masking his consternation.  Someone must be close at hand for her confidence to be so high – or she was bluffing.    
  
"Lie down on your back," she said, pointing with her chin toward the bed.  He did as he was told, his arms and legs at his side with his attention focused on the ceiling.  She wasted no time and joined him, straddling his thighs.  An irritated snarl brought his eyes to hers.  "I'm not amused by your show of biocontrol," she snapped, her right hand grasping his flaccid member.  "The last thing you should do is antagonize me."  
  
"I will not be coerced into a sexual dalliance."  
  
He waited to be ordered out of her bed – he waited for the guards to be called.  What he didn't expect was to feel her hair brush against his groin as she bent and engulfed him with her mouth.  He involuntarily tensed at her action, but the words of protest died in his throat as she teased him with her tongue and lips.  He closed his eyes and tried to ignore her impassioned moan of pleasure at the awareness that her technique was working.  
  
"I will not be coerced," he repeated vainly, trying to regain some sense of control.  She released him slowly and sat up, still astride his legs.  
  
"I won't force you," she said, noting with satisfaction that his eyes were wide - aroused.  "I have a proposition to make that will be mutually beneficial."  
  
"What is it?"  
  
She grinned at his almost eager willingness to hear her out.  "I have the ideal mountain fortress, but I lack the warriors to defend it properly.  You're aware of that - you slipped past my guards with far too much ease."  She adjusted herself higher on his thighs.  "Your camp has been destroyed; however, my spies tell me that a large number of your faction escaped.  If we join together, we shall be unassailable.  The adepts shall have the inner sanctum – your warriors shall have the rest.  We shall rule together."  
  
He stared up at her, her pale skin glistening in the evening candlelight.  "What you speak of is a merger – is it to be sealed with our physical union?"  
  
"If you agree, yes."  
  
He gazed at her as she rocked her pelvis subtly back and forth, letting him feel her wetness against his thigh.  As if of their own volition, his hands reached out and began entangling themselves in her long brunette hair. A low groan escaped as his tapered fingers traced down her lower back and pressed hard against her in quick, uncontrollable motions.  He took her buttocks firmly in his hands, and fingering between them fondled her and pushed her as hard as he could. She pitched aggressively against him for what seemed like several minutes while he held on, mesmerized and increasingly excited by what her feral movements promised.  
   
With an almost bored apathy, she raised herself up and then, swaying back and forth ever so slightly, she teased him yet again by grazing him, barely touching his sensitive skin, hanging over him.  And then in one deft motion she sank down onto his throbbing member and took it entirely into her.  He felt no resistance even as he watched her jaw shudder with the sensation of taking him so forcefully. She looked down, and then they exchanged a ravenous, reciprocated look as she sat all the way back and then rose as his hands guided her hips up and down.  
   
She covered her breasts with her hands as she rocked her body against him.  The feel of her naked body moving against him, moving harder, then softer, faster then slower, nearly caused him to explode, but he held off by sheer force of will in order to enjoy the heady seduction.  Their rhythm became smoother as they savored each other and found nothing wanting.  
  
" _Weh-lerash_ ," she whimpered suddenly.  "Harder."  
  
He obeyed, his thrusting intensified, and she arched her body as he took her fully, becoming more and more aroused with the sound of her muffled moans, the feeling of her thighs wrapped snugly around his hips. He drove deeper while her hands started to clamber across his chest as her legs clamped around him, her hips bucking against his in reckless abandon.  
   
He could feel her sex holding him tight, gripping his hard shaft as he rolled her onto her back and pushed in, out, and in.  With each withdrawal he came almost all the way out of her, his thick head barely between her lips before strongly arching, and diving back in. The muscles surrounding him tightened down almost painfully as waves of pure pleasure began their rush from her loins through her whole body and swept her to unimagined heights.  Her impassioned screams filled the air and he struggled to preserve the moment even longer, but it was useless. His eyes rolled back and closed, his head fell back as he released into her writhing body. Each pulse teased an answering throb from inside her even as he continued to thrust. He kept his swollen shaft moving between her tight lips and felt the last of her orgasm's contractions.  
  
Carefully, still buried inside her, he collapsed onto his side into a blissful state of serenity.  Nothing was said for several long minutes, with the only sound the shallow intake of air that slowly settled into a regular pattern.  
  
"Are we in agreement?" she softly asked, breaking the silence. 

 

He could not prevent a chuckle from escaping.  "We are," he answered.  
  
<Computer - save program>  
  
Sarek raised an eyebrow.  "How does this scenario differ from the first?"  
  
Amanda smiled.  "I always wondered why the collected data abruptly ended whenever a `merger' was mentioned between the Clans.  Vulcans have always been meticulous and would never leave such details out, and it seemed very strange to me that the archivists would remove something so important from the official records."  
  
"You believe that the `mergers' were carnal in nature, my wife?"  
  
Her smile broadened.  "Absolutely, my husband.  There is mention in several of the writings of Di'sul'ta and T'Variln the Younger about the marriage of Clan leaders; however, it's always a postscript and always after the mention of a child or children born.  Why?  Because the decision to join forces was sealed with a sexual encounter."  
  
"Is that an original theory?" Sarek inquired, noting the way his wife began to pace.  
  
"It's not a new theory at all, but it's one that I haven't seen openly embraced."  
  
"Advancing such a theory may be met with a less than positive reception," he said.  Amanda shrugged.  
  
"I'm used to that, but it's worth exploring, and if I can find more in the archives, I'll be able to support the theory and expound upon it."  
  
"What are your thoughts on this new technology," he asked, looking around the now empty, grid-lined room.  
  
"It's really exciting, but I'm not sure how useful it will be," Amanda replied, walking behind the portable console.  "There's the latent risk for presenting a fictional account as authentic."  
  
"You would propose that what we programmed is accurate?"  
  
She grew thoughtful as she loaded the programs into a series of tiny computer chits.  "I'd say that it is, and I have the empirical written data to support most of it, but it would be best to add a disclaimer to lessen the potential criticism."  
  
"Will the disclaimer include any mention of exaggeration?"  
  
Amanda chortled at his clear meaning.  "I didn't embellish you that much."  
  
"I noticed."  
  
Now, she openly laughed.  "My husband, beware, you are beginning to sound vain."  
  
Sarek sagely nodded.  "That would be a most unfortunate occurrence."  
  
"Indeed," she said, turning off the console.  She looked around the empty room with a satisfied grin.  "Computer, end holodeck session."  
  
THE END


End file.
